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Dearest Readers,
I produce two newsletters. Following is a
sample of Angel Scribe, filled with Angel and Miracle stories. Since the newsletter's
inception in 1996, it is a tradition to share the following Christmas morning
miracle that took place in my life.
NOTE:
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this is only a sample.
Here is the link to
subscribe:
Happiest of Holidays,
Mary Ellen "Angel Scribe"
___________________________________________________
 Angel Scribe® Christmas Morning Miracle!
- Believe -
 Photo by Mary Ellen "Angel Scribe"©
Nymbus Chatting With the Christmas
Angel
Dearest Readers,
If
you are busy this holiday season, count your blessings.
Many people have
no one, nowhere to go, and their days are empty.
Many understand that
when you uplift another, you also lift up your own spirit.
One Christmas
day years ago loomed viciously ahead of me.
Trying to figure out how to
make it through the day emotionally became a creative
game.
The answer came! Volunteer! So I phoned the Vancouver, B.C.,
downtown Crisis Center.
By volunteering, the day became a gift to the
regular employee, someone I didn't know, so they could spend it with their
family. The thought warmed my sad heart then and now.
I never regretted donating time on Christmas day; the experience was
enriching.
Driving home at the end of the work day, it was much easier
to count my many blessings.
My eyes and heart were opened wide after
spending a day peeking into others' bewildering and chaotic lives.
Need
warm and fuzzy hugs? Your local humane society has loving pets that need hugs
and homes, and the shelters need your extra towels for the animals to sleep on,
for warmth.
Traditionally, I share this Christmas Morning Miracle story
every Christmas season as a reminder that even the most impossible miracles are
possible!
Ask God/Angels/Spirit into your life and wait and watch for
the magic to unfold in ways that most deem impossible and remember--miracles can
happen!
Wishing you and your loved
ones a healthy holiday season wrapped in JOY.
Angelic blessings,
Mary Ellen ^I^
May this holiday
season bring you miracles...
and may you be the miracle in others'
lives.
Photo by Mary Ellen "Angel Scribe"© Myster E. "Keeping Hope Alive"
Christmas Morning Miracle
Shorter Version
appears in A Christmas Filled With Miracles
by best selling author Mary Ellen
"Angel Scribe""
http://www.angelscribe.com/l_122309.html
Thirty years ago we knew Christmas was going to be
unusual because my mother's husband, Jim, was recently diagnosed with terminal
cancer, and my mother was having an on-and-off- again attack of
gallstones.
We prepared for an
unusual, maybe even a depressing
Christmas holiday, but we were not prepared
for the miraculous!
I
was living on Vancouver Island and not looking forward to leaving the comfort
and festivities of home and friends.
In the busy work day, I had to
schedule 35 minutes for packing a suitcase, one hour for the beautiful drive up
the highway to the Nanaimo Ferry Terminal, and then wait for a ferry to
Vancouver.
My plans were ticking along nicely until I could not find my
two cats.
The Shaded Silver Persians, Channel and Camelot, were used to
traveling in the car but once again, they telepathically picked up that we were
leaving for the ferry and promptly hid.
I missed two ferries hunting the
cats out of their hiding places because it took an additional two hours to catch
them.
Before leaving the house on Christmas Eve, I
quickly telephoned my best friend, Rita, and wished her a happy and a joyful
holiday.
Over the years we had the habit of talking on the telephone
several times a day, which have added up to hours and days, cementing our
business and friendship.
Finally, the cats, suitcase, and packages were
in the car; I was ready to begin creating a new Christmas
memory.
Because of the delay locating the cats, I exceeded the speed
limit for the usual one-hour drive to the ferry terminal and arrived in under 40
minutes.
With the additional holiday traffic, we were forced to wait an
additional two tedious hours watching ferry after ferry pull out. Everyone in
the over-sized parking lot wished they were on each departing ferry.
I
scanned the cold parking lot at the many vehicles of all shapes and
sizes.
It was obvious they were journeying home to their loved ones for
the holidays; their trucks and cars were packed with family, dogs, and brightly
decorated holiday packages.
They walked by looking into my car and
smiled at the two cats sitting in the back window. The cats looked just like
the puffy white cuffs on Santa's red suit jacket.
We pulled onto the
ferry at 6 PM with the boring 90-minute trip over the gray waters to Vancouver
looming in front of us.
Just before 8 PM, the huge ferry lumbered into
the Vancouver dock. The weather matched our moods. We drove off the ferry into torrential rain, with the two cats meowing in the car's back
window ledge.
I breathed a sigh
of relief, knowing we had only 15 minutes left of this memorable Christmas Eve
drive.
I finally pulled into my mother's driveway and turned off the
car.
For several moments I gazed at the home sparkling with its
Christmas lights, reflecting on the home I had grown up in.
My sister
was living 3,000 miles away in Northern Canada, and my brother was in Australia;
things have certainly changed over the years.
(My father and sister have
died in the past 10 years, leaving their memories stamped on the
house.)
How do things change so fast in our lives? I felt trepidation
stepping into the home of my childhood where we had all spent so many happy
Christmases.
The cats immediately leaped for their freedom from the car
and began to re-explore this familiar territory.
As I stepped through
the back door into the kitchen, Jim's pharmaceuticals stood in full view like
soldiers of war against his illness.
No one was talking; my mother and
Jim were both resting, thinking their own sad thoughts. The heaviness of their
health situation was everywhere.
It was as gloomy inside the house as
the weather was outside.
It seemed the spirit of Christmas had been left
behind on the Island with the joyful voices of my friends and
neighbors.
We all went to bed early, around 9 PM. We could have watched
TV until the early hours of the morning thinking and rethinking the state of
Jim's health, or we could find quiet relief in the passing of time during
sleep.
I was dreading waking up in the morning, reflecting on how the
spirit of the holiday season had long since evaporated with the diagnosis of
Jim's cancer.
He was such a kind man; the thought of him suffering
overwhelmed us all.
I was the first one awake on Christmas morning. I
looked over at the familiar digital bedroom clock, which had stood as a sentinel
watching me grow from childhood to adulthood.
It was barely 7 AM on this
day of magic for children around the world.
Everyone else was still
silent and sleeping peacefully. I thought I would call Rita and hear a cheery
holiday voice. Her children usually woke at 5 AM, so they would have been up for
hours now.
What young child could sleep in, knowing Santa had arrived
sometime in the wee hours of the morning?
I dialed Rita's phone number
-- long since memorized. My finger sought out the 1, then the area code, then
the rest of her number.
She picked up the telephone and said, "Hello" in
a weak, crackly voice. I thought, "Oh no, what now! What else could possibly go
wrong! Where was her sweet lyrical voice?"
I asked Rita if she was all
right -- and this total stranger responded,
"Who is this?"
Caught off
guard, I also thought, "Who is this?'
Apparently I woke up an elderly
woman early on Christmas morning.
I apologized and she said, "Not to
worry. It is nice to have someone to talk to, as I don't have anything to do
today or anyone to talk to."
My heart went out to this woman, and we
started chatting. After all, everyone in my house was sleeping, this woman had
no one to talk to, and she was obviously very alone and lonely.
I had
dialed my friend's home long-distance on Vancouver Island, so I was curious to
know where this woman lived.
To this day, we cannot comprehend how this
happened! The woman said she lived in a small apartment in Burnaby.
It
was a local number. How had this phone call been rerouted to a total stranger?
The phone numbers were not even similar!
She said her name was Faith.
She was almost 80 years old, and her husband, Dick, had died seven years
earlier.
Her neighbor, Robert, a young man in his twenties, usually
spent the holidays with her, but this year he was out of town with his
fiancée.
Faith went on to say that she had no reason to get up at any
specific time today because she had no one to share Christmas with. She was glad
I phoned, "A bit of a Christmas gift."
Her Christmas Day was unfolding worse than
ours!
We
had each other, and this is what Christmas is truly about--
love for one
another.
Faith and I talked for 45 minutes. We were laughing
and sharing. I heard all about her wonderful husband and their years
together.
Just before 8 AM I asked her to hold a minute, as my mother
was now stirring in her bedroom.
I asked my mother if Faith could come
and share Christmas dinner with the remnants of our family.
My mother
was not feeling well, but she has an understanding and kind heart. She said,
"Yes, Faith is welcome."
Initially, Faith had a long and lonely day
looming ahead of her, and now it was a day to look forward to.
She was
thrilled at the prospects of a true family Christmas.
Faith was not
familiar with Greater Vancouver, so I gave her directions on how to come the 15
miles to our family's home in North Vancouver via the bus from
Burnaby.
She hung up and contacted the bus station to see if the buses
were running; it was Christmas Day, and it was snowing.
I hung up and
thought, what kind of woman had I just spontaneously invited to share
dinner?
Faith later shared that she was the only passenger on the large
empty bus as it wound its way through town, and she wondered if she had made the
right decision to leave the safety of her home and venture out on the snowy
roads to a total stranger's house.
No one knew she had left home or
where she was going. Faith had to make three different bus
connections.
After 20 minutes on the third bus as it drove past houses
with their Christmas lights up and families gathering, Faith started to
worry.
She had seen slums, poor homes, apartments, and middle-class
homes, and she was getting nervous.
Faith told the bus driver of the
mysterious morning phone call that brought her on her adventure today. She
wanted someone to know in case she disappeared.
The bus driver had no
idea he was delivering a Christmas miracle.
Faith showed him our address and he turned to her and
said, "You will be fine in that neighborhood."
But she was still
concerned as she had no idea who we were any more than we did
her.
Meanwhile, our formerly dreary home changed. We plugged in the
brightly decorated Christmas tree with all its shiny baubles of years-gone-by
memories.
My mother put on a festive long skirt and bless Jim's heart,
he mustered enough strength to put on a bright red shirt.
The whole
atmosphere of our home had shifted and become one of joy.
We excitedly
awaited the arrival of our Christmas guest.
I shoveled the snow off the
driveway and then stepped back into the house.
The aroma of the cooking
holiday turkey wafted through the house.
This delicious fragrance has
imprinted us all with the deep cellular memory of "Christmas."
Twenty
minutes later, it was time for me to drive to the bottom of the hill and pick up
our Christmas mystery guest at the bus stop.
And there she was, ever so
slowly, stepping off the bus.
What a sweet face! Faith looked up at me
and visibly relaxed.
We smiled at each other, and I took the gift of her
home to my Mother and Jim.
When I was growing up, I brought stray
animals home to my mother, but this was a whole new perspective of
sharing.
We had the nicest time, a great meal, and lots of laughs; at 9
PM it was time to drive Faith home to Burnaby.
But, I want to share
something miraculous with you, something so unexplainable, even I cannot believe
what was about to take place, even after all these years!
I am not
making this up; I could not have thought of something so
incredible.
Following is what happens when you live in the World of
Miracles.
We stood at the front door with our coats on as my mother and
Faith were saying good-bye when suddenly my mother realized we had not shared
last names with Faith.
My mother said, "What is your last name?" Faith
replied, "Holden."
My mother looked irritated, and she said, "No, that
is my last name, what is your last name?"
All of us had the shock of our
lives.
Faith looked confused and repeated with great patience, "That is
MY last name. Holden. H-o-l-d-e-n."
We had the same last name, Holden,
spelled the exact same way!
Usually the last name is spelled with a
second "o"; it is very rare to have it spelled with an "e."
How had we
been divinely put together with someone with the same family
name?
It was as if the
universe was saying,
"Your
family is not always one by birth, but by Divine
appointment."
Shocked we sat on the
couch bundled in our winter coats. This was not the last surprise for us this
Christmas day. Faith went on to describe her life as she sat in our living room
beside the ticking grandfather clock.
Faith said she had been married to
a man from England, as my mother currently was.
Both families then
traveled from England to Winnipeg, Canada. Faith's husband and my mother's
husband were the second of four children and none of these siblings, once
married, had ever had a child.
Jim and Faith's husband had the same
combination of brothers and sisters--in the same birth order.
Faith and
my mother went to the same high school; so many coincidences came one after the
other.
It was as if my mother and Faith were reading from the same
notebook of life, and they were just ticking off one similar experience after
another.
How is it possible to dial a long-distance number on Christmas
morning and get someone locally, who needed us -- and we needed them?
It
is unbelievably mysterious--it became evident that God works overtime on
Christmas; how else could I have possibly connected to a "family" member with
the same family name?
It is a Christmas and a miracle I will never
forget!
Dearest Readers, I have been sending this Christmas miracle
story to you traditionally since 1996, and I recently learned from my mother
that Faith's number was UNLISTED!
Even if we had wanted to find her, we would have had no way to!
May your days be filled with
miracles and you be surrounded by people you love!
Blessings to you and
your loved ones,
Mary Ellen "Angel Scribe"
SANTA NEWS
One of the blessings of
living in a small town is that you see people you know downtown. I saw Santa
downtown before he left town to head back to the North Pole.
Santa told me, "Mrs. Santa and I loved the photo you took of me with the
little boy; we had copies made to send to our relatives around the world for
Christmas!"
Santa
Photo by Mary Ellen "Angel Scribe"
This little boy jumped
into Santa's lap like he had not seen him for ... well, for a year!
Reader
Response
Thank you for your
newsletters. I enjoy the stories! You make a difference in all our lives, as we
each must find our own way of spreading comfort and joy.
Love,
Jo in Cedar
Rapids, Iowa
It is an honor to have you reading
Angel Scribe newsletters and
sharing them with your loved
ones.
Please share the newsletter with your friends
to uplift their
hearts and minds.
Happiest of Holiday Seasons,
Mary Ellen "Angel
Scribe"
AngelScribe@msn.com
Prayers?
Love to participate on a Prayer Team?
Need prayers?
Angels & Miracles Global Prayer Team
Contact Cynthia
cynthiamorse@mindspring.com
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Read in LARGE PRINT
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